


welcome you home with open arms

by DarkColdSummer



Series: sheltered from the universe (but i’ll open up for you) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 4+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Homesickness, Platonic Soulmates, Reincarnation, Soulmates, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkColdSummer/pseuds/DarkColdSummer
Summary: [alternate title: i look in the mirror and what do i see? (i don’t really know who’s looking back at me)]Everyone is homesick for the home that they had a life ago, but admitting their reincarnation publicly may cause more detrimental effects than positive ones. Alfor’s homesick too, for the life of the alchemist he used to live, instead of the life of literal royalty, but he tries his best to accommodate the others.The elaboration of Team Voltron’s 2nd life that accidentally ended up featuring Alfor’sKeith'sPOV again.(Sort of a 4+1, 4 times Alfor comforted his mirphlings over their homesickness and 1 time they returned the favour)
Relationships: Alfor & Blaytz & Gyrgan & Trigel & Zarkon (Voltron), Alfor & Blaytz (Voltron), Alfor & Gyrgan (Voltron), Alfor & Trigel (Voltron), Alfor & Zarkon (Voltron)
Series: sheltered from the universe (but i’ll open up for you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793773
Kudos: 10





	welcome you home with open arms

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to tag. Also, I can't tell if you need to read the main fic (1st story in the series) to understand this. 
> 
> (If you need background, Paladins are reincarnated and platonic soulmates, this is their second life and their first life was in Altea ~300 decaphoebs ago. Every soulmate bond is different - in their first lives it was a mind meld, in this life it's a shared tattoo.)

The first time it happens, it’s just Zarkon.

“Hey,” Alfor greets. “Did we arrange a meeting that I forgot or something?”

“Or something,” Zarkon answers vaguely, looking very much uncomfortable.

Alfor gives his mirphling a look. “If you need anything, you can just tell me. You know that, right?”

“Right.”

The two of them remain at their respective places in silence for a while.

“I miss Altea,” Zarkon says, seating himself down on the nearest chair.

“Do you?”

“I miss it. The Galran way is very different from the Altean way. It’s not something I’m very used to.”

Alfor takes his time to register the statement. “Would it help if I shifted to look more like Caslas?”

“Please,” there’s a pleading note to his voice. Alfor obliges, white hair turning dark red, length growing shorter. His skin grows a little paler and he grows shorter, his eyes turning a vibrant orange, though his marks glow their usual blue, refusing to change.

“I can get fake marks to paste over these ones,” Alfor suggests.

“No, no,” Zarkon whispers, eyes glued to his form. “It’s good.”

“Not completely right though,” Alfor frowns.

“No, but it’s good enough. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

-

The next time, it’s, surprisingly, Trigel.

Out of all of them, Alfor has expected her to not actually come to him at all. She is the one who’s managed to adapt into her new role the easiest, or so it seems. It’s clearly just outward appearances only, with her at his door, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Alfor.”

“Trigel,” he responds mildly. “Would you like to come in?”

She comes in, and Alfor shuts the door behind him softly.

“Is there anything you would like?”

“Do you,” Trigel starts to ask, suddenly looking very very uncomfortable. “Have any juniberry tea?”

“Of course,” Alfor says, already moving for his tea set and collection. “Would you like to have some right now?”

“It would be very much appreciated.”

The scent of the tea is sweet, stifling and almost overwhelming in the small room, but Trigel simply takes a deep breath in and visibly relaxes. Alfor smiles softly at that. There are many things that he has to do as king of the Alteans, but, selfishly, the highest on his priority list will always been his mirphlings, even above his people and new family. (An arranged marriage that his mirphlings have no say in? There’s no way that he’ll ever be content like that. His mirphlings’ opinions have always been held highly in his views.)

He sets out the tea in front of his visitor. “Would you like some biscuits to go with it?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

The formality is a little stifling and makes their interactions a little too stilted for either of their likings, if Trigel’s face is anything to go by, but the both of them manage.

(The peace is nice.)

-

“Blaytz,” Alfor nods. “What can I do for you?”

On the other side of his doorframe, Blaytz handles two Altean broadswords uncertainly, then offers one to him. “Spar with me?”

Alfor bats the offered broadsword aside, and Blaytz’s face falls. Then he grabs the other sword. “Not when you’re offering me the less balanced sword you cheat.”

Blaytz’s boisterous laugh brightens up the hallways and he grabs Alfor by the wrist, already rushing towards the Paladins’ private training room. “Come on!”

He trips over his feet a little at the suddenness of it all, but Blaytz’s happiness is more than enough to make up for it. “What, you think you can beat me at a sword fight, Lilari?”

“Ha, we’ll see who’s laughing when I blow your mind with my amazing sword-fighting skills! I’ve been practising, Caslas!”

“All the practice in the world wouldn’t help you in a sword fight!”

“Don’t be too sure about that!”

(Alfor completely beats Blaytz. It’s not even a competition - what’s Blaytz doing with a close-range weapon anyway? He’s always been much better with ranged ones!)

-

There’s a soft rapping at his door that can only be one person because no one else knocks on his door like that. Alfor gets up, opens said door and- woah.

Gyrgan stands there, sheepishly, with what must be a feast’s worth of food in a basket. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says, by way of explanation. “So I cooked our favourite dishes from memory.” Then he winces. “I might have forgotten that my palette this life is very different from an Altean one. Do you want some?”

Alfor accepts the offering and gestures into his room. “Join me? You look exhausted, I think some tea would do you some good.”

“Thank you Alfor,” Gyrgan grins softly, stepping into the room. “The tensions when we form Voltron are definitely taking a toll on me. Have you spoken to Zarkon about it?”

Alfor tries his best not to think about Zarkon, telling him to “Stay out of it, Galran affairs are none of Altea’s business, and offers a forced smile instead. “I’ve certainly tried.”

They don’t talk about it any more.

-

It’s no secret to any of the Paladins that Voltron’s inter-paladin bond is very much similar to their mirphling mind meld in their previous life. Similar, not identical, the mind meld more based in words and the paladin bond more based in feelings.

It’s also no secret to any of them that Alfor tends to feel homesick too, even though technically still in Altea. None of them fault him for it or not telling them about it, but there are little discussions about how to help with it.

It would’ve been Caslas’ birthday the day they put their plan into action.

“Nope, no no no no,” Blaytz tuts, darting into the room to drag Alfor out. “No you don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Alfor asks, utterly confused.

“Zarkon wants us to go on a diplomatic mission man,” Blaytz continues, as if Alfor hasn’t spoken in the first place, and the latter feels his face fall at the mention of their leader.

“Oh,” he says. “Zarkon.”

There must be something in his tone of voice, because Blaytz slows down and gives him a look. “You don’t have to come if you’re not up for it.”

“It’s okay,” Alfor says quickly. “I’ll deal.”

“If you’re sure,” Blaytz says dubiously.

Red is a scorching flame in his mind as he enters her cockpit, mentally purring loud enough for him to pretty much vibrate.

“Alright team,” Zarkon says. “Let’s form Voltron!”

There’s a chorus of verbal confirmations that Alfor doesn’t join in with and they form Voltron easily. Somewhat. It feels like every other paladin and lion share a goal that Alfor is strangely left out of.

“Alfor, buddy,” Gyrgan says, voice tinged with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good,” Alfor grits his teeth. “Don’t we have a mission to get to?”

There’s someone in the bond whose emotions are tinged with such intense amusement as Blaytz says, “Well… about that…”

He’s ready to yell, but Gyrgan cuts in. “Alfor, we can all tell you’re on edge right now. Just… rest a bit. Treat this as the mind meld. Isn’t the crowd in your mind at least somewhat comforting?”

He’s still ready to yell, but he takes his time to acknowledge Gyrgan’s words. It’s true. His mind is as crowded as it always is when they form Voltron, as crowded as it always used to be in their past life. It’s a sort of crowdedness that’s slightly draining on an introvert like him, but it’s draining in a comforting way.

“Huh,” he says, and senses the others’ smugness, amusement, pride and affectionate frustration.

“Happy birthday, Caslas,” Trigel offers softly.

(It feels like home.)

**Author's Note:**

> I've just realised this is like... 24 hours early. Woah. 
> 
> FYI,  
> Mirphling = Soulmate


End file.
